


The Time Traveler

by thebrightestbird



Series: Don't You Hear My Call [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meta, Mild Language, Time Travel, referenced homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrightestbird/pseuds/thebrightestbird
Summary: “Did Brian’s younger self travel to our time to play himself in the movie?”Well, not quite. Here's the real story of how Brian May ensures the perfect person is cast as him on the big screen.In other words, Brian has some fun in the future, meets his older, wiser self, flirts with Gwilym, and gets a behind-the-scenes look at the making of BoRhap.
Relationships: Gwilym Lee/Brian May
Series: Don't You Hear My Call [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1227458
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	1. Meeting of the Brians

**Author's Note:**

> So, after more than a year since writing ["Freddie's Excellent Adventure,"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158628/chapters/40345460) this idea of writing Brian's adventure in the future popped in my head. Probably would help if you read that one, especially when I reference some things in chapter 3.

Brian sets the kettle on the stove and ventures to the kitchen table to turn on his laptop and check his email while he waits.

It's another quiet, lonely morning without Anita to wake up with. He's incredibly happy that she's working on a new series, but he misses her terribly as she's been on location for most of the month.

The timing could have been better since she started work just as Brian returned from another tour with Roger and Adam. Now, he'll have to recuperate while continuing to miss his wife.

After taking a moment to sigh while looking at Anita's favorite chair, Brian finally clicks open his inbox and scans the contents. He's gotten better about learning to use the filter options available so that he's not immediately faced with hundreds of messages from various sources, but there are inevitably still dozens of emails that he gets daily, varying in importance or interest, that Brian feels compelled to address.

Brian ignores the pull of various news alerts, knowing that will be an hour or so of deep thought and intense frustration. Instead, he looks for anything that would need a timely response. The subject "Brian May Casting Candidate" leaps out at him, and he clicks without hesitation.

The filmmakers of the yet-to-be-named Queen movie have been gracious with Brian's input on many of the aspects of the movie. Casting of all four band members has been the most tumultuous part and has led to a few stumbles, especially Freddie's role. Finding someone to capture the charm and complexity of his late friend was to be expected. However, what was surprising was how difficult it's been to find the right person to play himself.

Brian has received a few of these emails over the past couple months concerning his role. The candidates so far have been somewhat strong in some aspects but never felt quite right. Whether it was their less-than-stellar CV or just not really looking much like Brian. Sure, there's only so close of a resemblance that will ever be possible with anyone not related to him, but this film needs to be convincing in terms of the band members' looks. Freddie was often the focus of attention, yet the rest were quite often recognized in their own right. Brian's not being haughty when he acknowledges that, after Freddie, he's the most recognizable member of Queen given his height and enduring crown of curls.

Brian skims the email's introduction and gets straight to the name of the latest candidate to play Brian May. "Gwilym Lee," he quietly reads aloud.

He can't help but take note right away of the actor's height, which matches his own. Brian is no giant, but he's taller than average, and it seems to be one of his traits that complicates his casting. That's one box checked off, at least.

Mr. Lee's most notable recent work has been on television, a good indicator of his acting abilities since he's managed to get work steadily for many years. Brian doesn't think playing himself will be such an acting challenge, but he wants to be represented as best as possible. He mentally checks off the talent box.

Before opening the attachment with his photograph, Brian looks for the last bit of information that's vital to being able to play himself: guitar ability. Of course, Brian doesn't expect an actor to have his level of skill with a guitar, but some knowledge and interest in the instrument is a must. Audiences can tell when someone holding a guitar is genuinely capable. Despite the fact that the music in the movie will mostly be from Queen's live performances, and therefore people will be hearing his very own performance, the visual is going to have to match. Simply, the actor is going to have to effortlessly recreate Brian's style of performance to be in any way convincing. And Brian is relieved to see that, yes, Mr. Lee does have a foundational knowledge of the guitar.

As Brian is about to open the photo attachment, he notices some papers on his table flutter. He looks at his windows to check that they are closed, which they are, but before he can solve the source of the wind, it picks up ferociously. Brian swivels his head frantically to try to figure out what the hell is happening. He spots an anomaly in the middle of the kitchen a couple meters from him. It's like a dark spot in the air. He observes how it steadily elongates and realizes that it's no actual thing but a hole or tear of some sort ... and someone's coming out of it!

As soon as the person fully emerges, the black opening seals up in a blink and the wind stops. The person looks about trying to get situated, seemingly unaware of where he is. The person is tall, skinny, has dark curly hair, objectively male, shirt's not quite buttoned, he's wearing a familiar watch, has good taste in clogs-

"Uh, excuse me," the person interrupts Brian's internal cataloging of him.

Brian can't quite get his mouth to work and only blinks in acknowledgement.

"Are you who I think you are?" the person asks.

Brian does one more quick inspection of the person before looking down at himself, looking at his hands and touching his face and hair. "Well, I'll believe who I think you are if you tell me correctly who you think I am." Brian repeats his words to himself, and sure, that made sense, he thinks.

The person ponders the proposal for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "You're Brian May. You're my older self. Me in the future." He says the last bit with a faint smile, revealing how in awe and enamored the prospect makes him.

Seeing the emotion on his younger face jars Brian out of his shock and disbelief over the situation, and he finds himself returning the smile.

Then the kettle screams.

"Jesus Christ!" both Brians practically jump out of their skins. They look wide-eyed at the stove and then back at each other.

When Brian's heart rate finally starts to settle, he gets up to remove the kettle. He prepares two cups with no need to ask his unexpected guest how he takes his tea. Once done, he walks back to the table, handing one of the cups to his awkwardly standing younger self. "Have a seat, Brian."

||

"A time machine?" older Brian repeats the two key words from younger Brian's explanation of how he arrived here. "I invented a time machine? I don't remember inventing a time machine in 1987."

"You know, I was curious about that when I chose to come to the future," younger Brian says. "Whether such knowledge would already be with you when I arrived since I am you from the past. Our meeting could answer so much about the nature of time and history. You have no recollection at all?"

Older Brian takes a moment to really think back and is astonished to realize that suddenly he does recall having created the device with Deacy one drunken night using a vacuum and old guitar pickups.

"I remember the time machine now. Honestly, I didn't have any of those memories before you were here."

"Yeah?" younger Brian bounces in his seat excitedly. "Anything else?"

Older Brian closes his eyes to better focus inwardly. "I can remember now finding the device after it was forgotten in the back of the wardrobe and then deciding to test it by coming here."

Younger Brian smiles broadly. "And?"

"That's it," older Brian answers. "It's like I'm steadily forming the memories of anything that had to do with you traveling to my time as you experience them."

"Amazing," younger Brian says in awe.

"I suppose that means that despite you being me from the past, in a purely chronological sense, I won't know what happens with you here in 2017 until it's all done and you return to your time."

"Brilliant! There's so much I want to know. Like," younger Brian looks at the laptop on the table, "is that a computer?"

Older Brian smiles. "Yes, computers these days are as small as books. And even smaller," he holds up his rose-gold iPhone.

Younger Brian's jaw drops. "That's a computer too?!"

"Well, a mobile and a computer."

Younger Brian makes grabby hands. Older Brian happily hands over the device.

"You can access all kinds of information instantly these days and communicate through video almost as regularly as making phone calls."

Younger Brian puzzles over the device. "Okay, I see the one button, but how do you do things with it? Voice commands?"

"Yes, you actually do have that ability, but you'll be ashamed to know that I'm a bit of a stereotypical old fart when it comes to some aspects of technology, and I hardly know how to get that option to work. I stick with the touchscreen."

Younger Brian gets the hang of tapping and swiping about fairly quickly. "You said it does video? So, there's a lens? Can you take pictures?"

Older Brian smiles even wider, amused by the reminder of his lifelong fascination with photography. "It takes the highest quality and with no need for film. Everything these days is entirely digital."

"Can I take a picture?"

Older Brian shows him how to open the camera and where to tap to take photos. Younger Brian immediately chooses his older self as the subject of his first photo. The elder rolls his eyes but indulges him, putting an elbow on the table and placing his head in his hand to pose.

While younger Brian inspects his picture, he gets a wild idea. "Could we take a picture together?"

Older Brian hesitates at the notion. "Umm, should we? It seems dangerous to have evidence that you were here." They haven't discussed it, but there's an unspoken agreement that his past self should cause as little disturbance as possible while here.

"You can erase it, right?"

"Well, yes, I suppose."

"I just think it would be, uh, I don't quite know the right word," younger Brian looks down at the iPhone again, "satisfying, I guess, to have proof that we met. Even if the proof exists for a short period of time."

Older Brian stares hard at his younger self. He's about 40, and it's probably just the advantage of hindsight and having aged out of some self-esteem issues, but he thinks he looked really quite good at that age. He knows appearances were deceiving, however, because life was turning into a shitshow back around that time. This adventure to the future might be exactly what he needed (needs? Brian is having a hard time working out the proper grammatical tenses for the situation.).

Older Brian scoots his chair closer and takes the iPhone only to change the camera to the front before handing it back to his younger self to do the honors. He can see the huge smile on younger Brian's face in the screen and tries to match it.

When the deed is done, they both can't help but stare at the photo in fascination for a long moment. Older Brian dwells on how he's changed so much in 30 years. Aging has been mostly kind to him in terms of his health with no serious diagnoses. He certainly doesn't feel his age, still able to gallop around a stage relatively well. 

But, my God, his looks have changed. The most noticeable being the white hair. Then there are the sunken eyes, the wrinkles, the loose skin. He has to turn the phone over in dismay.

"What's wrong?" younger Brian asks.

Older Brian can't look at him. "Um, I'm sorry if you're disappointed in what you're seeing."

His younger self tilts his head in question.

Brian simply waves his hand over his face and body in explanation.

"What? That you're old?"

Brian huffs at his younger self's bluntness.

Younger Brian brings a hand under his older self's chin and lifts it so that they're facing each other. "You know what my first thought was when I realized that you were really me 30 years into the future?"

Older Brian shakes his head.

"I thought, 'I still have my hair!' "

Brian gives a surprised snort. "Seriously?"

"Do you find it hard to believe I was so relieved that I wasn't bald?"

No, that's understandable, Brian mentally concedes. He's often found himself mourning the loss of the dark brown hue but thankful that he at least has hair, and coming to accept the white cloud of hair has given him a different sort of confidence over the years.

"I had no illusions about what I'd look like at this age," younger Brian continues. "Honestly, I'm really a very handsome 70-year-old man, if I do say so myself."

Older Brian huffs and chuckles lightly. "Despite how sullen I could get, I forgot how arrogant I could get too."

"It's not arrogance, you know better," his younger self chastises. "It's much needed confidence."

"All right, that's true enough," Brian concedes. "I hope seeing how you end up helps you gain even more of that confidence."

Younger Brian looks thoughtfully around them and then studies older Brian's face for a bit. "Are you happy?" he quietly asks.

"I am," Brian easily answers.

"How'd you end up that way?"

Older Brian doesn't immediately answer, pondering the right response. "Don't think I should tell you everything about this time."

"Give me something," younger Brian pleads. "You gotta remember how it was for me. For us."

Brian sighs. He worries that revealing one thing could reveal another and another and continue to snowball. But, yes, he certainly does remember how difficult things were during younger Brian's time. "All right," he looks through his phone for just the right photo and unceremoniously holds it right in his younger self's face.

Younger Brian gasps, "Anita." It's a more recent selfie of the two of them that Brian insisted on taking. No special occasion or unique setting. Brian was feeling particularly giddy that day and just thought Anita looked lovely. 

"You'll be fine, Brian," the elder says reassuringly. "Things seem really bleak now, I know. And I hate to say this, but there will be some other tough periods ahead. But I hope you can take comfort knowing you have much more good than bad to look forward to."

The younger man cradles the phone with the photo on-screen in his hands and allows a small smile to form. When he feels ready, he hands the device back. "Thank you."

Brian glances once more at the photo and smiles as well over the memory before turning off the screen and tucking the phone away. "You'll also be relieved to learn that Queen's success continues to grow and endure."

Younger Brian is honestly shocked. "How much bigger could we possibly get? The Magic Tour was the most massive undertaking ever. Are we still touring?"

"In a way, yes," Brian says as cryptically as possible. "But that's not the only evidence of success. There's a Hollywood picture being made about us."

"You're joking?"

"No, it's been in the works for quite a while. Finally seems to be truly happening now."

"My God, who could possibly play Freddie?"

Brian laughs. "That indeed has been a major source of headaches. But apparently you are not so easy to cast as well."

"Me?"

Brian nods. "In fact, would you like to see the latest candidate for the role of Brian May?"

The younger man's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Mr. Gwilym Lee." Older Brian wakes up his laptop once more. "I've gone over his basic information and he seems to be the strongest candidate yet. I was just about to see his picture when you rudely interrupted."

His younger self rolls his eyes.

Brian clicks open the image file revealing a young man with short, neatly styled hair and stubbled jaw.

"Handsome bloke," younger Brian says immediately.

Older Brian agrees, of course. "Though I wish the casting director would send me color photos instead of the usual headshots. Oh, well. Easy enough to Google him."

"Do what to him?"

Brian waves off the question. "Don't worry about it."

Once the search results return, the Brians get lost in a small sea of photos, mostly of Mr. Lee's work in "Midsomer Murders" and "Jamestown," which leads down the rabbit hole of watching video clips of the series.

"He certainly has acting talent and presence," older Brian remarks.

"My God, the clarity of the screen is amazing," younger Brian's distracted from the scene, still awed by the leaps in technology in this time. Then Gwilym re-enters the scene shirtless, and Brian is no longer distracted. "Oh, he's quite fit."

Brian snorts. "Possibly too fit to play you."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"

Older Brian pointedly stares at the younger man's slim limbs. "You might want to start doing some push-ups. You have quite a few tank tops in your future."

"What?"

"Nevermind, I've said too much." Brian closes the browser window and pulls up the black-and-white photo of Gwilym from his email. "So, what do you think?"

"I'm still not quite sure," younger Brian admits. "He's talented, no doubt. I still can't quite see him portraying me."

Older Brian stares at the photo like it's a puzzle. "I've got it!" he exclaims suddenly. He leaves the kitchen and after some sounds of rummaging and a drawer slam, he return with a magazine and a pair of scissors.

"What are you doing?" younger Brian asks.

Older Brian doesn't answer, just flips through the magazine until he finds the page he wants and immediately starts cutting. Younger Brian looks at the page and notices it's a picture of himself.

And Brian's cutting his hair out.

Older Brian places the piece over the screen on the picture of Gwilym Lee.

The Brians study the altered image. "He's perfect," they say in unison.

||

"We have to help him get the part."

Younger Brian looks questioningly at his older counterpart. "Aren't you going to tell the filmmakers that you approve of the choice?"

"Yes, of course, but that won't be enough. I amazingly am not the final say on who will portray me."

"And what more could we do to ensure he's chosen?"

"Well, while I make my emails and phonecalls, you need to do your part."

"What could I possibly do?"

"Since you're here, you could pay Mr. Lee a visit," older Brian says, somehow making the suggestion sound like nothing extraordinary.

"You want me, Brian Harold May circa 1987, to show up at Gwilym Lee's doorstep to help him get the role of me?"

"Uh, yeah," older Brian says coolly. "Get to know him, see for yourself that he's right for the role, and give him some insight into us."

Younger Brian looks at his older counterpart like he'd grown a second head. "Are you mad? I've probably caused enough trouble by being here and talking to the future me. I wanted to glimpse the future, not manipulate it."

"Oh, please. It's just a movie," older Brian easily dismisses. "You're in the future! Don't waste it simply hanging around an old man."

The younger man's still unsure. "How, uh, would I even start that conversation? 'Pardon me, but I believe you're vying for the role of me in a big-budget picture. Fancy a chat?"  
  
Older Brian winces. "I forgot how anal I was."

"What?!" Younger Brian squawks out an indignant huff.

"Loosen the hell up, Brian." The older man picks up the time travel device and places it in his counterpart's hand. "No more excuses. You've come this far. There's no turning back."

The younger man looks at his older self fondly. "Getting rid of me so soon? There's so much more I want to learn from you."

"And that's why you have to go," Brian answers with a panged expression. "Because I could easily tell you all the bad shit that's still to come. Or even the good shit." He pauses to take a deep, calming breath. "But you have to really live your life, Brian. Not wait for it to happen."

His counterpart looks somberly at the ground like a lost puppy, and the older man hugs him, unable to resist giving him some final support. "Stay as close as you can, as long as you can, to the mates. To John, Roger, and Freddie," Brian says, as if there'd be confusion over which mates he could possibly be talking about. "Especially to Freddie."

The younger Brian looks back up suddenly at the last part. Realization quickly dawns on his face, and he nods in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Brian, for everything. I'm glad we met. I hope you remember how much this experience has meant to me."

The older man chuckles and lets him go with a playful shove. "I'm sure I'll treasure it, _Doctor_ May."

The younger Brian sucks in a breath. "Doctor?!"

The older Brian couldn't help but impart some good news after alluding to some bad stuff. He hits the button on the time machine, and with a final wave, the younger Brian disappears.

Brian yet again faces an empty kitchen, an empty house. He goes back to his seat at the table in front of his laptop. The picture of Gwilym is still open on the screen and he fondly stares at it as the new memories form in his mind of his first encounter with the young actor who most certainly will be portraying him on the big screen.


	2. For the day I take your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwilym gets a surprise visitor.

Gwilym looks at the electric guitar and amplifier he just dragged up to his flat a few minutes ago. They lay on the floor next to his stack of old scripts and barely alive ficus tree. So obviously out of place.

"I'm screwed," he mutters to himself.

The yet-to-be-named Queen movie has been a hot project these past few months. Actors in London and Hollywood were being scouted in earnest, and Gwilym was determined to get on the shortlist. He's been doing well for himself on the telly, but it was time for his breakthrough role. This project was it. He could feel it.

The film was going to be big, not because a major movie studio was funding it, but because of the subject matter. Queen is legendary with hardly a corner of the Earth where the band's music hasn't reached. And, of course, the place Queen has in British rock history is almost god-like.

Despite being aware of Queen, Gwil had to brush up on the members who weren't Freddie Mercury (because who doesn't know Freddie fucking Mercury?). He watched some old concert footage and immediately zeroed in on the guitarist. Tall like himself, lean, distinctive hair, some gorgeous costumes, and just absolutely masterful with his guitar. He's the one. Gwilym was going to become Brian May.

When the stars aligned for him to submit his audition, he was fully prepared with clips of just the right scenes to submit and a solid list of credits to his name. He was just missing one tiny thing: guitar talent.

He had none.

Gwilym knew things about the guitar, sure. He enjoyed the music and was genuinely enthusiastic about Queen. But, yeah, he couldn't tell you what the hell those lines on the long part of a guitar were called or name any of the strings.

So, he lied.

Gwilym figured there was nothing to lose. Saying nothing about guitar knowledge was going to be an obvious mistake and instantly get his clips chucked into a bin. He could only claim to know some guitar and simply worry about it if he got a callback .

Well, the time to worry happens to be now because he did get a callback.

And now he owns a guitar and an amp that he has no clue how to use.

Gwilym thinks his first option to learn guitar is probably YouTube tutorials, so he grabs his remote control to turn on the television, but then a gust of wind knocks over his new guitar.

"What the hell?"

His door and windows are closed, and there's no way the air from his vents would do that.

The wind picks up rapidly and some dark spot in the middle of the room appears and grows. Despite the wind, Gwil manages to stay stood in shock as he sees someone appear from the darkness. Once the person's fully emerged, the hole goes away along with the wind.

The person looks about quickly and locks eyes with Gwilym. The fact that a complete stranger has magically appeared in his flat finally hits him, and he looks for anything that could be used as a weapon. He picks up the guitar and holds it like a tennis racket. "Who the hell are you?! How did you do that?!!!"

The stranger holds up his hands in defense, his eyes wide and cautious. His expression changes when he takes in what Gwil is holding. "You'd actually use your guitar as a weapon?"

Gwilym takes a quick glance at the instrument in his hands. "Wh-what's it to you what I use to smash over your head? You're intruding in my home! I'll hit you with whatever I want!"

"Okay, yeah, I get that, but isn't that expensive? Wouldn't you want to protect it from a thief?"

"If you must know, I just bought it second-hand, and I have no idea how to play it, so I might as well use it to hit the man who broke into my home."

"You don't know how to play it?"

Gwilym cannot believe his life right now. "Why are you so concerned? Who are you?!"

The man clears his throat and awkwardly spreads his arms. "I'm, uh, I'm Brian May."

As soon as the name is spoken, Gwilym suddenly becomes hyperaware of all the man's features. And from what he's seen of Brian May from photos and videos, everything matches up completely.

Except for one thing. "Brian May is an old man in, what, his 60s?"

"He's about to turn 70," the man says in an oddly proud manner.

"Fine, he's 70. You are obviously not 70, and therefore cannot be Brian May."

The man presses his lips together, likely giving himself a chance to choose his next words. "You do think I look like a younger him, yeah?"

Gwilym sighs. "Uh, yeah, but any tall man with curly hair could try to pass themselves off as Brian May."

"And the hole I just came from, that doesn't give you pause to consider that there is something extraordinary happening? That a younger Brian May has traveled to the future, and he's currently in your flat right now."

Gwilym scrunches his face in confusion. "Did you hear yourself just now? How is that the most likely conclusion?"

"You saw me come out of a windy dark hole that appeared in thin air!"

"It's some trick with, I don't know, mirrors ... and a wind machine?"

The man heaves a long sigh. He's looking at the guitar again. "All right, I'll be right back."

"What? Where are-"

Before Gwilym can fully finish his question, the dark hole and wind come back and the man disappears in an instant.

Gwil can only stand there dumbfounded, blinking as he stares at the now empty space in his living area. He looks around the room like maybe there's some other hole existing somewhere that he hadn't noticed. "Uh, hello? Wh-where did you go?"

He keeps standing and staring for lack of any idea of what else to do after such a freaky occurrence. But then the wind's back. "Fuck me!" he squints his eyes to fight the wind.

The stranger's back, as he said he'd be, but this time holding a guitar of his own. He has a completely put-upon expression. "If I play you something from this completely unique and entirely Brian May-built guitar, will you then believe I am who I say I am?"

Gwilym takes a hard look at the instrument. It's the Red Special. After watching so much concert footage, Gwil knows what it looks like, knows how different it is from other guitars. He did his research, and like the man said, Brian May built the guitar. Gwil might not know much about guitars, but he can imagine that building an electric guitar by hand back in the '60s is pretty incredible.

"You stole an old man's guitar?!"

The man who, sure, looks sort of like a young Brian May gapes in dismay at him. "You seriously still don't believe me?"

"Play it."

"What?"

"You said you'd play it to prove that you're Brian May. There's the amp. Plug it in and prove it."

The man who, okay, might possibly be young Brian May looks determined and takes two easy strides to the amp and sets up. "The cord on this is fraying. And the knobs are barely attached. You should take better care of your equipment."

"Okay, Mr. Money Bags Rock Star, I just bought that second-hand as well."

"Brian May" arches an eyebrow. "I'm set up ... barely. Any requests?"

Oh. Gwil hadn't expected to be able to request something. What should he ask for? That one bit in "We Will Rock You" is epic. The riff in "Keep Yourself Alive" is a good one too. Who is he kidding though? If this is really Brian May, there's one guitar solo that Gwilym can't risk missing the chance to hear. "Bohemian Rhapsody," he answers.

Brian gives a lopsided smile and without delay makes his guitar sing its part in one of the most recognizable songs in modern music history.

||

"Why are you here?" Gwilym asks.

"You weren't my first stop. When I realized this thing," Brian points to the vacuum he's holding, "works as a time travel device, I knew I wanted to go into the future but not so far. I wanted to meet myself, which sounds as vain as you could possibly get, but I just wanted to know how I was. If I'd be okay."

Gwilym wants to ask what's happening with him that had him so concerned, but he keeps his mouth shut and thinks it's best to simply listen to what Brian's willing to reveal.

"Also, I thought it'd be the smartest place to start since I'd be completely out of my element in the future, and the most likely person who'd believe me would be, well, me."

Gwil nods. "That makes a lot of sense given my reaction to you."

Brian huffs at the reminder.

"But, again, how'd you end up finding me? How do you even know who I am?"

"Present-day me shared some information about a little motion picture being made about Queen and allowed me to help evaluate the latest candidate for the oh-so-important character of Brian May." Brian playfully points in Gwil's direction.

Gwil blushes furiously. "Uh, is that so? What was your verdict?"

"We thought you were perfect."

And now his face might as well be on fire after that statement. "Oh, really? Th-that's so flattering."

"That opinion might have to be revised now, however."

_What?! No, no, no._ "Why? What's changed?"

"You were going to hit me with a guitar that _you don't know how to play_."

Gwilym scoffs. "I was going to learn it! You wouldn't know the difference."

Brian turns to the instrument that Gwil discarded to the floor. "Well, I think you're going to have to figure something else out because you broke the poor thing." He picks up the guitar with both hands, holding the cracked neck together as best as he can.

"You're kidding!" Gwilym goes over to inspect the instrument. "She was going to help change my life."

"How so?"

"Roles like this in big projects don't come about often, you know. I was going to learn how to play her. Ensure I got the part." Gwil mournfully sets it aside. "Well, there goes that opportunity."

"What do you mean?"

"Like you said, I don't know how to play. It's going to be completely obvious I lied."

"You could still learn."

"With what guitar?"

"With this one," Brian holds up the Red Special. 

Gwilym looks wide-eyed at the instrument. "You'd seriously let me touch her?"

Brian chuckles over the reverence. "If you're going to be playing me, what better guitar to learn on and who better to teach you how to treat her?"

"You'd really do that for me? I don't want to be a bother and take up your time."

"Gwilym, time is not an issue," Brian points at the time machine in explanation. "Also, I traveled here to ensure you're right to play me. I see no better way to help you than teach you guitar."

"Um, all right," because who is he to reject guitar lessons from Brian fucking May. Gwil goes to remove some of the random debris that fell on the couch during Brian's windy entrances and exits. "Have a seat."

Brian does as directed and as soon as Gwilym joins him, he places the Old Lady in his hands. Gwilym holds it out like it'll bite him.

"Okay, first off, just relax. Don't be so stiff. Rest her on your right leg and hold the neck loosely with your left hand."

Gwil thinks he can manage that. Baby steps, after all.

"Now, the main vocabulary you need to learn are that these lines on the neck are frets. You press down on the space above a particular fret to play a single note. You press down on different frets on multiple strings to play a chord. The parts of the guitar that transmit the vibrations of strings are these three metal parts called pickups. All the switches control which pickup is transmitting the sounds and their phases. This dangly thing is the tremolo arm and controls the tension of the strings. There's the electric guitar for you."

"Uh, right," Gwilym says sullenly.

Brian notices the mood. "How about I just show you what to do, and you try to copy it?"

"Oh, thank God. Yes, please." Gwil hands back the guitar.

"So, I should probably just demonstrate how I handle the guitar. The way my hands generally move-," Brian stops talking and looks around them. "I seem to have misplaced my sixpence. Do you see it?"

"Hmm," Gwilym searches all around them. He spots the coin on the side table next to Brian. "There it is!" He stretches across Brian to reach for it, thoughtlessly leaning into Brian's personal space and nearly knocking noses with the man. "Um," he clears his throat, "here you go." He finds it difficult to completely pull back from the close proximity. 

It forces Brian to snake his hand between them to take the coin. "Thanks," the guitarist smirks. "You can stay right next to me because you're going to be my fretting hand."

Gwilym nods in acknowledgment and has no problem staying snuggly next to the man.

"Now, put three fingertips on these three strings right here." Brian positions Gwilym's hand just right. "I'll strum these five strings." He does so with as much flourish as he can muster in his seated position. "That's an A chord. That's pretty much all you need to play rock 'n' roll."

Gwilym snorts a laugh. "It's so easy. Don't know why everyone's not a rock star."

"Hey, if a nerd like me can be one, anyone can."

"Don't pretend you're an abashed, accidental rock star. I've watched enough footage. You were meant to perform."

"And how much have you watched?" Brian asks.

"It was research!"

"Oh, yes, that's what every performer wants to hear. Watching our concerts is just work for you."

"I enjoy watching you."

There's the opening Brian was looking for. "You do now?" he remarks with a raised eyebrow.

Gwilym rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. I enjoy the music, but, yes, I've been studying you. Just keep teaching me, and I'll eventually show you what I mean."

Brian's incredibly curious but sets that aside to continue his lesson. He shows Gwilym a few more chord shapes and how to strum with the sixpence. At some point they get up so Gwil can get a feel for playing the guitar while standing, which is how he'll truly have to learn to handle the instrument. Through it all, Brian can almost feel Gwil's serious gaze. The actor is genuinely learning and engaged in what Brian's saying, but at the same time, Brian's being thoroughly observed.

"Ready to show me what you've got?" Brian asks after Gwil seems to have pretty much grasped a simplified version of "Fat Bottomed Girls."

"Yeah, I think so." Gwil's face goes through an odd change suddenly.

As the audience, Brian takes a seat. Gwilym takes a deep breath and rips right into the song.

It's clunky. He's getting most of the chords and notes, but the timing is all a bit off. But the mannerisms! The way he's holding the guitar, using it as an extension of himself. He tips his head down and shakes it when really focusing, then looks up and gives Brian a cheeky grin when he's feeling confident.

It's like looking in a mirror.

Gwilym pulls off the guitar with a very Brian-esque flourish, and it's like a switch goes off. It's just Gwilym again, hugging the guitar, eagerly awaiting Brian's review. "Was that all right?" he asks, adorably wide-eyed.

"So, um," Brian tries to collect himself, "that's what you meant."

Gwil nods. "Was it close? I know I wasn't playing quite in time, but did I look the part?"

Brian's still a bit in awe. "I think with some more practice, you might make a more convincing Brian May than even me."

Gwilym laughs, "Don't be silly."

"I'm serious. You picked up all that, my little ticks and mannerisms, from being around me for not even an hour."

Gwil looks down, bashful. "It's what I do best. Becoming a successful actor was pretty much my only avenue careerwise. Wouldn't do me much good as a banker."

Brian grins wide. "You're truly talented, Gwilym. I can't wait to see your performance."

Gwil knows he's blushing but can't seem to pull away from Brian's adoring gaze.

Then Brian's stomach rudely interrupts the moment. "I guess it's been quite a while since I've eaten anything."

"Oh, I'm such a rubbish host," Gwil hands back the guitar to Brian, "I should have offered you something when you first got here."

"Please, don't," Brian tries to wave off the concern. "It's not like you knew I was coming. I literally popped into your home uninvited."

"Still, you should eat. I'm actually hungry too. I could order something," Gwilym starts to suggest, but then gets a dangerous idea, "or we could go out?"

Brian's head immediately looks toward the windows despite the shutters.

"Have you been outside yet? In the future?"

Gwilym can see the excitement on Brian's face grow. He shakes his head no.

"Would you like to?" Gwil needlessly asks.

Brian gives a giddy, "Yes, please."

||

Brian looks around them as they walk about. It's equal parts cautious and curious. "Do you think I should wear a hat or something? I don't want to be recognized."

The idea of forcing a hat on those curls makes Gwil unreasonably sad. "I don't think you have to worry about that in this time. Do I have to remind you of my reaction? I've been looking at photos and video of you for weeks and yet my first thought wasn't, 'That's Brian May from the '80s!"

Brian laughs. "Fair enough." He continues to scan everything. "I hate to say this, but future London's not that much different."

"You only went forward 30 years. It wasn't going to be 'Star Trek.' "

"I know, I know. But the buildings are more or less the same ancient things or garish eyesores. Even the cars are as ugly as ever. Not one of them at least flies?"

"Afraid not," Gwilym chuckles. "But fuel efficiency has come along. Many of them are electric or hybrids. Some sense of responsibility with fossil fuels has entered the picture."

"That's something, at least. I guess I can forgive the ugliness somewhat." Brian looks up at the rapidly darkening sky. "What about space? Have we stepped on any of the other eight planets yet?

"Seven," Gwilym thoughtlessly corrects.

"What?!"

"Oh, right," Gwil cringes. "That was a 21st century development. Sorry to break this to you, but the solar system lost Pluto."

"Like literally? Something happened to it?"

"No, it just got reclassified. We discovered a whole bunch of Pluto-sized objects, so scientists downgraded it to a dwarf planet status. If it's any consolation, there's still great scientific interest in Pluto."

Brian pouts for a moment and considers other space-related achievements. "Have we at least been back to the moon?"

"Nope."

Brian actually makes a growling sound. "The future sucks."

Gwilym laughs. "There is one grand thing happening as we speak in space that I could tell you about." He's referring to the International Space Station. "But how much do you really want to know?"

"No, you're right to not tell. I would still like a few surprises in my lifetime."

"That's what I thought," Gwil nods.

Brian's relying on Gwilym to pick a place to eat, and the pressure proves to be too much on the man. Should he suggest fancy? They're not dressed for fancy. He also read somewhere that Brian's a vegetarian. He can't possibly suggest just any place. What if he gets food poison and dies in the future? Okay, wow, his brain took a real dark turn there-

Brian notices the strained look on his face and thankfully interrupts the paranoid thoughts. "Gwil? I'm not expecting a ten-course meal. A decent salad and some soup will suffice."

"Oh, thank God," Gwilym doesn't hide his relief. "Let's just go to the Pret over there then."

The meal is pleasant, and to Gwilym's relief, without a food-poisoning incident. Gwilym talks about his family, uni and how he got into acting. Brian talks along the same lines about his time in school and early bands. He surprisingly doesn't go on much about Queen, which Gwil has to admit is slightly disappointing. But he finds listening to Brian's enthusiasm for his science and space studies truly engaging.

"I had no clue there was so much to learn from space dust," Gwilym remarks.

"There can be much to learn even from the smallest things," Brian says as they leave the shop. "I think that humans forget that we're part of the universe. The more we study of what's out there," he waves a hand above, "the more we learn about what's down here."

"You don't have to convince me." Gwil smiles fondly at the astrophysicist and rock guitar legend. That's a combination he'd never thought was possible. It's extremely attractive as well, and Gwil can't quite resist considering his time tonight with Brian as a date.

They start walking with no particular destination, Gwilym realizes. "I feel like a rather poor tour guide of future London since I can't really come up with anything for you to experience that you wouldn't already have available in the past. We could go to the cinema, but that would just be a rubbish Hollywood blockbuster filled with pop culture references you won't understand. There's the gazillionth showing of some Shakespeare play likely being performed somewhere. I'm afraid we're both a bit aged out of the club scene, and I wouldn't dare subject you to the aural torture of electronic dance music anyway. I suppose we could go get drunk at a pub." Gwil scrunches his face in disdain at all the options.

"That's all right," Brian gives him an easy smile. "I didn't come to the future to party. I've had my fair share of that in my time. I'm perfectly happy with a peaceful stroll and your company."

Gwil shyly nods his agreement, and they walk slowly back to his place. Brian casually takes his hand after a few strides like they were a normal couple. 

They don't say anything about it for a bit, both afraid of breaking the spell. Brian's worries get the better of him, however. "Is this all right?" he asks, probably a little too softly and close to Gwilym's ear. "I'm working on the hopeful hunch that two men holding hands on the sidewalk won't get as much shit in this time."

Gwilym huffs. "There are still people who'd be pricks about it, but fuck 'em." He squeezes Brian's hand. "I've wanted to do this pretty much the entire time we've been together."

"Me too," Brian smiles.

The hand-holding has given Gwil some much-needed confidence to ask Brian to do something he thought might be over-the-top. "Brian, can you sing something for me?"

"Right here? Now?"

"I'm not asking for a big, booming performance. Just a little something while we walk."

"Hmm," Brian considers what he should sing. "Do you want something from Bowie perhaps?"

"Don't you dare," Gwil playfully shoves him. "One of yours, please."

"Fine, fine," Brian quirks his mouth. "I should sing something romantic, but I can't resist the opportunity to sing ' '39' given my current location in time."

Gwilym's ashamed to admit that he isn't too familiar with the song. He heard it for the first time while watching one of Queen's performances from the '70s, and Freddie was the one singing lead on it then.

Hearing it sung by Brian alone is powerfully intimate. His voice is so tender and earnest, and Gwil finds that he's better grasping the fantasy and poetry of the words than he had on his first listen.

_Don't you hear my call though you're many years away_   
_Don't you hear me calling you_   
_All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand_   
_For my life_   
_Still ahead_   
_Pity me_

"How was that?" Brian asks.

Gwil swallows the lump in his throat. "Brian, I have no idea why you would think that song isn't romantic. I think I'm ready to propose marriage to you after that."

Brian laughs and bashfully looks down.

"I can't believe you. You wrote a time travel song and then actually traveled through time. And what do you do in the future? Spend it with a no-name actor teaching him how to play guitar."

"Gwil, I am spending my time with a lovely man and have glimpsed a brighter future for myself. This experience is exactly what I've needed."

When they arrive at Gwilym's building, Brian hesitates at the door. Gwil turns to face him in question.

"Please believe that I've enjoyed every moment with you," Brian says to Gwilym, looking him in the eyes and still holding his hand.

Gwilym gets a sneaking suspicion about the finality of this moment. "The night's not over yet," he tries to say confidently. "You can teach me some more guitar. Or we could still go to a pub." Gwil grabs hold of Brian's shirt and pulls him closer. "Or we could have an early night," he brushes a curl on his forehead aside, ensuring the man gets his meaning.

Brian's mouth falls open, at a loss for the right response. His free hand finds a place on Gwil's waist. He thinks for a moment about his song. Unlike the volunteers in " '39," Brian is certainly going to return to his proper time. And he wants to leave the future with no regrets. "I should go," he finally says.

"So soon? You have a time machine, Brian. Why now?"

The pleading look on Gwil's face is weakening his resolve, a sign that he really should be going now. "I've been somewhat purposefully unenthused about the future, but the fact is that I've found quite a lot to like about it. The advancements in technology and science, the progress of being able to hold your hand without fear, the distance from my troubles," he trails off, bites his lip. "There's a comforting familiarity but also exciting newness to it all. I could easily fall in love with the future, with everything and everyone in it." 

Gwil doesn't miss the way Brian squeezed his hand when he said "everyone." It makes having to say goodbye even harder. "So, this is it? No more time travel for you?"

To his surprise, Brian gives him a small smile. "Not quite. I need to make one more stop, but for this part of the future, I think it's time to go."

Gwilym refuses to beg him not to go. He's not above stalling though. "You still need to get your guitar. Come upstairs one more time, at least."

Brian's smile gets wider. "Keep it."

"What?!" Gwil says way too loudly. "You're leaving it here?"

"You need some more practice."

Gwilym can't fathom Brian May ever being apart from his guitar. "You're giving me the Red Special?"

"Oh, no, no," Brian shakes his head vigorously. "You're just borrowing it."

Gwilym squints in utter confusion.

"I'll be back to retrieve it."

Hearing that makes Gwil's heart skip a beat. "You'll be back to see me?"

"That's my one more stop. I'm really excited for it."

"When?" Gwil still doesn't want to let go of Brian, but the thought that he'll certainly see him again is a small consolation.

"Well, you're going to need a few months with the Old Lady. I'd rather surprise you as to exactly when though."

Gwil looks down to the ground, none too happy that he's going to have to wait an unspecified number of months to see the guitarist again. A large hand comes to cup his face to lift it back up.

Brian looks at Gwil's eyes for permission before pressing their lips together. The hand on his face pulls Gwilym into the kiss more firmly. They hold each other as close as possible, a literal head-to-toe embrace. It's a slow-moving kiss, nothing fancy, yet Gwil thinks his heart has never raced harder. He's never before felt a kiss this important or powerful.

Brian breaks the kiss before Gwil's ready, and he stubbornly tries to go in for another. Brian steps back quickly though. He gives Gwilym an apologetic look and pulls the time travel device from the tote he used to inconspicuously carry it through the evening. "I'll see you in a minute."

Before Gwilym can respond, the wind kicks up. He catches a wink from Brian before the guitarist disappears into the night.

He knows it's pointless, but Gwilym looks around at his surroundings to see any sign of Brian. He dully wonders if anyone around witnessed the man disappear in thin air. If they did, they probably will rationalize it or simply dismiss it as a hallucination.

Gwil slowly turns around and goes back inside and up to his flat. When he turns on the lights, his eyes automatically latch onto Brian's guitar on the couch. He reverently runs his hand over it.

It takes a lot of faith and trust in a person to leave such a valued possession behind like Brian did. Gwilym doesn't feel like he's earned it though.

He wonders where he'll be in a few months when Brian returns. If he wins the role, he'll be on set working on the film.

Gwil picks up the guitar to practice some more. "See you in a few months, Brian." 


	3. We shot Live Aid on Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian goes back to the future.

Gwil meets present-day, 70-year-old Brian May on a Thursday during rehearsals for the Live Aid performance. He honestly hadn't properly prepared himself for this moment. He was so focused on the younger Brian returning to see him that he must look like a deer caught in lights with a copy of the Red Special hanging from his neck.

It's a warped form of déjà vu having the older Brian watch him perform just as his younger self had done months ago in his flat. Gwil finds that he wants to impress this Brian just as much as he wanted to impress the younger Brian then. And when the older man locks eyes with him and almost immediately gives him a hug, Gwil knows that he remembers what happened between them. He realizes that, of course, he cares what this version of Brian thinks of him. 

They're the same man, after all.

||

Brian and Gwil pretend to be newly acquainted for the crew around them and the few cameras that are recording and taking pictures of the moment for behind-the-scenes footage for the press. Brian brought the present-day Red Special with him, and Gwil gets to play with the aged but reconditioned version of the same, earlier version of the guitar he has stashed in his trailer. He brings it to set without fail to ensure he can return it to the younger Brian when he returns.

Once everyone has gotten their fill of seeing the "two Brians" together (if they only knew), they finally get time alone.

"Hi, Brian," Gwil whispers. He says the simple greeting like this, as if it is truly their first moment together again, because it's how he really would have liked to have greeted the older man. It's more intimate, free from the show they had to put on for the people around them.

"Hello again, Gwil," Brian says with a sweet smile. "It must be strange for you to realize I remember that night with you."

"I can't pretend to understand any of this, but I suppose you remembering should make sense." Gwil contemplates it all some more and wonders, "Do you know what's going to happen when he, uh, I mean, you come back? Like, can you see the future because it's your younger self experiencing this all?" He goes over what he's trying to ask. "Does that make sense? Sorry, all I know about time travel comes from 'Back to the Future' and 'Doctor Who.' "

Brian laughs. "I understand what you're asking. It's the same thing that my younger self and I had wondered ourselves. Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately, I suppose — I don't know all that will happen when my younger self returns."

"Oh," Gwil visibly deflates. "So, no lottery numbers?"

Brian laughs again. "You're entirely too charming, Gwil." 

The young man blushes in a familiar way, a fact that Brian finds fascinating. The mechanics of his time travel experience brings up an interesting philosophical conundrum. He has the memories of going into the future, meeting his older self, going to meet Gwilym. But it feels like it's not really his experience. He, 70-year-old Brian May, isn't really doing any of this.

He knows what 40-year-old Brian May knows though, feels the same things, such as a genuine fondness for Gwil. However, he wouldn't dare do what his younger self did and show physical affection with hand-holding and a goodbye kiss. That's off limits, Brian thinks, meant for his younger self alone, and thus further separating them in his mind.

"I know when he plans to return though," Brian admits.

"Yeah?" Gwil can work with that, at least. Make sure he's really got his guitar playing in prime form, plan their whole day out, make any necessary reservations, be sure to have breath mints ...

"But I won't tell you," Brian squashes Gwil's plans.

"Oh, come on!" Gwil tries to turn on his most pleading puppy look.

Brian rolls his eyes. "That probably would work on my younger self, but I'm a hardened, stubborn old man. I won't spoil the surprise."

Gwil pouts. "Not even a hint?"

"Nope," Brian slowly gets up. Gwil politely does so, as well. "I have to be going, but I'll visit again."

"I'd ask when, but you seem to love keeping me ill-prepared for your visits, no matter your age."

Since he can't kiss Gwil goodbye, Brian has to do something with the overflowing affection he has for the young man. So, he hugs him again. Gwil returns the embrace without hesitation, and Brian's resolve weakens just a bit. "He'll be back soon," he admits. "We both will."

||

They're doing it. They're finally filming the movie. And, of course, they're starting with Live Aid.

Gwil's in full kit: wig, white button-up, black trousers (that are actually Brian's!), trainers, and the real Red Special in his hands (he snuck it on set).

As promised, older Brian returns to visit. Honestly, there are quite a lot of visitors on set to watch the Live Aid filming. Roger Taylor is here, along with Bob Geldof, Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, and Jim Beach.

It makes Gwil hopeful for a certain other visitor to finally make his appearance today.

It's a balmy, still day. Not the most comfortable to be filming outside all day, but it could be worse. They've run through the entire set list a couple times already with plans to do it completely a couple more times. Rami's at the piano starting up "Bohemian Rhapsody" when some of the extras in the audience begin to loudly complain.

"Cut" is called and practically the entire crew gives the offenders "what the fuck" faces.

"Sorry!" someone shouts. "Some freaky wind came out of nowhere."

If the guitar wasn't strapped on, Gwil would have dropped it. He frantically looks around for Brian, but can't see that head of curls anywhere in the crowd. He looks to older Brian for help and gets only a shrug and faux ignorance. He bloody well knows where his younger counterpart is.

The call is made for Rami to start playing the piano again with no need to re-enter the stage. Gwilym pushes his urge to keep looking for Brian to the side for the sake of filming and sinks into his role. At this moment, there is only one Brian May — and it's him.

There are no more hiccups with the performance. In fact, he thinks this was their strongest take yet. Ben's timing was impeccable, Joe's bass-playing and bopping movements looked completely natural, Rami was a luminary on stage, and Gwil swears his fingers have never flown more freely over the Old Lady.

Gwil truly felt like a champion at the end of "We Are the Champions," as he looked out at the onlookers, at the proud, beaming faces of Brian and Roger and the rest. 

And that's when he sees him, the younger Brian standing out in the field, cheering and clapping, looking exactly the same as he last saw him. 

Gwil kind of goes on autopilot then, doing the bows and waves at the end of the performance with the rest of the band and then moving off stage. When "cut" is called again, they stay off stage to allow the crew to reset the stage for them to do it all once more.

Rami tries to stay in character between takes, so he's never too chatty, but he says out of nowhere, "Was it just me, or was that last run-through fucking awesome?"

The other three actors nod their heads vigorously in agreement.

Gwil is itching to run out into the field to find Brian but knows that's not going to fly. At least he knows the man's finally here-

"Damn it! The wind's back," someone in the audience exclaims.

Gwil closes his eyes and inwardly groans. _Where is he going now?_

||

The next time younger Brian shows up, Gwil's ready for him.

This week, they're filming the bulk of the scenes that chronicle the recording of "Bohemian Rhapsody," so they're on the farm set, and he's behind one of the barns.

The familiar wind blows, and he sees the hole that Brian will emerge from appear a few meters in front of him. The guitarist is facing away from Gwil when he's completely emerged. Perfect.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Gwil says.

"Jesus!" Brian jumps at the voice and swiftly corkscrews around.

Gwilym greets him with the most unsympathetic expression. 

Brian, however, gives a magnificent smile. "Gwil!" He spreads his arms to go in for a hug before he takes notice of Gwil's stance. His arms are folded, hips slightly turned away, a scowl etched on his face. "Uh, hello again," Brian meekly greets the young man.

Mostly, Gwil's happy to finally see him again. But there's a petty part of him that wants to needle Brian for the earlier fake-out during the Live Aid filming, where he showed up only to disappear in a blink.

"You have a lot of nerve, Brian. I know for you, this encounter is basically minutes from that night you met me, but it's been months for me Brian. And, I'll admit, in those months, I've been busy, as you can see." Gwil waves a hand over his wig and costume and the set that surrounds them. "And, yes, I managed to learn some guitar."

"I saw you onstage. You were fantastic!"

"Thank you, but I'm not done shaming you."

"Uh, sorry," Brian frowns. "Please continue."

Gwil takes a deep breath. "I was also busy trying to figure out your time machine. I may not be an astrophysicist, but I'm smart enough to realize a pattern with your trips to the future. It's tied to the person or event you wish to visit to get you close to their location. That's what happened when you visited your older self. That's what happened with myself in my flat. And that's what happened yet again during the filming of Live Aid. Now, it was a big guess on my part, but I figured you would yet again make me the focus of your next return, and it was going to be amidst filming."

"I knew you'd get the role," Brian says. "I wanted to see you at work."

"You just wanted to check that I didn't mess up your character."

"There were no doubts about you, Gwil," Brian insists. "I wanted to see if this was actually going to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"The film," Brian explains. "It's one thing to be told that there's going to be a film made concerning one's career, but a whole other thing to actually see it happening." Brian spreads his arms to point out their surroundings, then waves a hand up and down in Gwil's direction. "I mean, is my legacy that big?"

Gwil's face softens over Brian's doubts. " _Of course, it is_ ," he reassures. "Brian, even during your current time, you have to be aware of how influential and important you and Queen are."

Brian shrugs. "It's becoming a bit of a tangled mess in my time. The press is vicious, and I've not been my best."

Gwil moves closer to the other man and places a firm grasp on his shoulder. "It can be hard to keep perspective of the good in things when times get tough. I hope your little adventure through time has helped you recall all the good you and Queen have done."

Brian nods. "I've really needed this."

Gwil smiles broadly, his previous annoyance and stubbornness completely gone. "Let me show you around. I'll catch you up on the making of 'Bohemian Rhapsody'."

Brian's eyebrows shoot up. "You're chronicling the making of the song?"

Gwil nods to confirm. "Yes, that's the part we're focusing on at the moment. But I mostly meant the entire movie. That's the title."

Brian looks at Gwil with disbelief. "Oh my God," he huffs, "Freddie's going to be sooo smug."

||

"You're really telling me the hood of a car is called a bonnet over here?" Joe asks.

"Yeah," Ben nods.

"Like a lacy hat you'd put on a baby?"

"Umm, yeah," Ben shrugs. "Same word."

"And what's called a car's trunk in American English is called a boot in English English?"

Ben rolls his eyes at the wording, "Yes."

Joe twiddles a strand of his wig hair in thought. "Why is every part of a car named after pieces of clothing?"

"That's not quite right. It's just two things."

"Do you call the doors skirts because they can fly out?"

"What?" Ben scrunches his face in disbelief.

"Let me guess, the windshield's called a windbreaker here?"

"Actually, it's a windscreen."

Joe gives Ben a panged look. "Are tires at least called tires?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, thank God."

"But spelled with a 'Y'."

Joe is ready to rip the fake hair off his own head. "Why a 'Y'? I mean, do you spell the other tire with a 'Y'? You know, like, 'I'm quite tired today.' "

"No, that's the same here," Ben admits.

"Then why?"

"I don't know! I'm not a bloody etymologist."

"You probably think it's better though, don't you?"

"I really don't have a preference between a 'Y' and an 'I'."

"Oh, Benny, I think you do. You love your 'Y's, your useless 'U's, and your double 'L's."

Ben sighs and accepts the ridiculous rant that's coming.

"It's not the Labor Party," Joe says in a twangy American accent, "but the _Labour_ Party," he says in the poshest English accent he can muster. "It's not plain ol' dumb humor, but pre-POST-erous _humour_. It's not, 'I'll endeavor to ask a favor from the neighbor,' but," Joe pauses and realizes he's too lazy to repeat the sentence, "all of what I said with a whole bunch of extra 'U's." 

Ben just blinks in response.

"It's a British conspiracy to keep words ridiculously long. It's not just jewelry but _jewellery_. It can't be, 'The bear is disemboweling me.' It has to be _disembowelling_. Like another 'L' would make getting your guts torn out better. If you had it your way, Benjamin, this very story would be 'The Time Traveller' with two 'L's."

"What story?"

"And don't get me started on the British hatred of the letter 'Z'!"

"Oh, my God, please don't," Ben looks away, exasperated. Joe's a wonderful human but can be utterly exhausting. He spots Gwil coming back to the set with someone in tow-

Wait, no. Maybe Gwil's the one in the back. They both have curly hair and are the same height. It's hard to tell from a distance which is the actor.

"I mean, why'd you freaking invent the letter if you don't even use it-"

Ben swats Joe's chest with the back of his hand to get him to stop ranting. "Look over there."

Joe looks at where Ben's pointing and does a double take (in more ways than one). "Um, did I get knocked in the head? Because I swear I see two Gwils right now."

"I know! Who's the other fella? And which is Gwil?"

The two actors tilt their heads in sync to further scrutinize what they're seeing.

"Jesus, what are we waiting for?!" Joe exclaims. "Let's go! Let's go!'

They sprint toward the two men, skidding to a stop.

"Okay, who's the clone and who's the real Gwil?" Joe asks without bothering with a greeting or introduction.

"What are you talking about, Joe?" Gwil asks.

Ben and Joe wave their hands back and forth between Gwil and Brian in explanation.

Gwilym looks up, barely making out the ends of the curls on his head. Right, he's still in costume. He kind of forgets the wig's even there sometimes. "I'm Gwil," he sighs. "Don't pretend you can't tell."

"Prove it," Joe insists.

"You stole a stack of the prop _Queen: Greatest Hits_ records that we shot photos for."

Joe scowls. "Christmas will be here before you know it. I need them."

Gwil crosses his arms in judgment.

"Okay, fine. You're Gwil," Joe grumbles.

"Uhh," Ben clears his throat, "then who is your friend?"

_Oh, crap._ Gwil has to explain Brian. "This is ... my close-up double. You know, for the shots of the hands playing the instruments if we need them."

Joe and Ben gape at Brian, scanning him up and down.

"He's your _double_?" Ben has to blink a couple times at what he's seeing. "He looks exactly like Brian May."

"Yep, really good casting job all around," Gwil is doing a lame job selling this, but he's out of ideas.

"Is that hair real?" Joe asks.

"Um, yeah," Brian speaks up, "I don't need a wig."

"He even sounds like Brian May," Ben says in astonishment.

"So, if you're the close-up double, you must play the guitar really well," Joe reasons.

Brian smirks, "Not too shabby."

"Okay, yeah, we gotta hear this." Joe moves behind the two men and pushes them toward the recording studio set.

"What? Joe, no!" Gwil tries to stand his ground.

Brian, however, is willing to have a little fun. "Sure, I can play a bit for you."

The set is quite spacious and features everything the band would have had on hand during their recording sessions. It's not an exact copy of one of the barns Queen recorded _A Night at the Opera_ in, but it's very reminiscent, Brian acknowledges. His eyes lock onto the Red Special copy immediately, and he picks it up with a smile. He plays a bit from "Hammer to Fall." 

Once Brian's done, he looks up at his audience. Gwil has a small, exasperated smile on his face, while the other two's eyes look about ready to pop out.

"Why aren't you playing Brian May?" Joe asks in wonder. Ben nods in agreement.

"Oi! What about me?" Gwil asks.

"No offense, man, but this guy's got it all."

"I'm not an actor," Brian reasons, as proven by his work in the promos for their songs. He'd ironically make the worst Brian May on film.

"Pfft, you'd be amazed at how little acting is involved with being an actor." Gwil and Ben shoot Joe dirty looks. Joe continues, oblivious, "In fact, if Gwil's double is this good, what are the rest of the close-up doubles like?"

"I haven't met mine yet," Ben says.

"What if they're just as good as him?" Joe points to Brian. "Oh, God, what if mine isn't only a killer bass player but can speak with a legit Oadby accent and has a small army of children?"

"Joe, don't do this," Ben begs.

"I can't lose this job, Ben. I already permed my hair. Did you know perm is short for permanent?"

"You're not losing your job," Ben ignores the perm comment, hitting on Joe's real worries. This isn't the first time he's had to ease Joe's doubts about his ability to play John Deacon.

"How can you be so sure? And what about your double? He's probably Roger Taylor 2.0."

"Pfft, no way," Ben dismisses.

"Dude, you lied about playing the drums. And your double probably not only plays the drums like a beast but has the high vocal range that only dogs can hear. Probably has beautiful blue eyes and lush blond locks too."

"I'm a real blond," at least Ben has that going for him. "And it's not my fault the wig budget got dominated by you and Gwil or I'd look even more the part."

"Sorry, Ben. Once Roger meets the close-up double, he'll have a new favorite person."

Ben gasps. "Take that back!"

"We're so screwed, Benny," Joe looks honestly troubled.

Ben swallows hard. "I, uh, I'm gonna go practice some more drums."

"Good idea," Joe nods. "Meanwhile, I'm going to find my close-up double and stow him in my car trunk for the entirety of filming."

The three men stare dumbfounded at the actor, somewhat worried he actually means it.

"What?" Joe questions. "Oh, right. Sorry, in my car _boot_."

||

"Interesting casting choices for John and Roger," Brian says in wonder while watching the two men wander off.

Gwil chuckles. "They certainly make filming an adventure. We've become really good mates."

"That's fantastic, Gwil."

"Yeah, this movie has brought a lot of good things in my life," Gwil gives a brief meaningful look at Brian before nervously looking away.

It's then that he sees Rami in his mid-'70s Freddie attire and wig staring at them — and, of course, he's coming toward them now.

"Gwil, darling, I don't believe I know this gentleman," Rami says in his Freddie accent.

Brian gapes at Rami. The look and mannerisms are startlingly familiar.

"Um, Rami, this is my close-up double," flipping hell, Gwil has to come up with a name, "Br-, uh, Bryn." Brian and Rami look at Gwil with obvious disbelief. Gwil just shrugs. "Bryn, meet our Freddie Mercury: Rami Malek."

"A pleasure," Rami holds out his hand to shake. Brian's still a bit in awe and takes a tick too long to register that he needs to bring his hand up to complete the shaking process. "I heard your performance a few minutes ago. It was truly masterful."

"Ah, well, thank you," Brian clears his throat. "Definitely not as good as the real Brian May."

Gwil has to commend Brian for trying to sell this ruse as best as he can.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Rami says. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd believe that the real Brian May was standing right in front of me." He does a very Freddie-like onceover of Brian's entire body.

Brian nervously looks at Gwil, who's nervously looking at Brian in return. "Do you, uh, stay in character like this all the time?" Brian tries to divert the attention from himself.

"Yes, mostly between filming scenes. It helps keep my performance as authentic as possible." Rami seems to pause his response to consider something. He is really immersed in being Freddie as he pulls his lips in much like the singer would be seen doing in interviews. "Does it bother you?" he asks, concern coloring his face. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Brian and Gwil are thrown by the concern. "No, of course not," Brian answers. "You're a professional doing what he needs to do for the job. I respect that."

Rami gives a closed-mouth smile, covering his mouth for extra protection. (He's just too good; Gwil would bet good money on Rami winning an Oscar for his work.)

"I doubt you really need my assurances," Brian starts, "but I must say that I think Freddie would be proud of your dedication and the obvious care that you've put into portraying him."

For just a moment, the Freddie facade drops, and it's all Rami reacting to Brian's words. "You mean that?"

Brian gives him an assuring smile. "I absolutely do."

Gwil thinks he sees tears forming in Rami's eyes, but before he can ask whether he's all right, the warning to clear the set for the next round of filming is shouted out. "I guess Rami and I should get back to work," he looks at Brian apologetically.

"Brilliant!" Brian beams over the prospect of watching Gwil and the others, "I'll hang back, you know, in case my close-up services are needed."

Gwil huffs and relaxes knowing that Brian won't be leaving for now.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Bri-, uh, Bryn," Rami says, back with his Freddie accent.

"Same, Rami," Brian nods in acknowledgment. "Best of luck to you."

||

Brian tries to get as close as possible without being in the way of the crew. Amazingly, no one has questioned his presence. The close-up double charade seems to actually be working. 

Although, if Brian thinks hard on it, he supposes this shouldn't be much of a surprise. Gwil is right in assuming that people would never fathom that he's actually Brian May, no matter how much he looks like the version of the man they know from photos and video.

No, the version of Brian May that they currently know is 70 years old with white hair and wrinkles and ... is sitting in the opposite corner!

Brian shies backward toward the wall, trying to not be completely away from the scene but still wanting to be able to keep an eye on his older self.

The scenes have involved the recording of the song "Bohemian Rhapsody," and currently Gwil is playing the guitar solo to "Freddie's" demanding specifications.

This is, of course, not how it went down at all. There was a fair bit more screaming involved, although Rami's portrayal of Freddie's unique style of communicating his musical ideas is spot-on. Brian also has to marvel at Gwil's progress with the guitar. It's really like watching himself play the solo.

Speaking of himself, he checks back on his older counterpart, who is practically glowing while watching the actors. "Cut" is called and someone speaks up that they have a very special visitor on set. Suddenly, older Brian practically pounces on Gwil with arms outstretched for a hug. Gwil seems completely surprised but pleasantly so, and he doesn't hesitate meeting the hug.

Younger Brian finds himself getting misty-eyed over the interaction. In character, the actors treat him as part of the movie and have him play the solo, which his older self does with ease and relish. Gwilym stands to the side with the most adoring look on his face. It's such a treat to see both his older self and Gwil look to Rami as Freddie to seek his approval of the performance. 

Tears start to truly fall from his eyes then. The cheer of the moment heals something inside, and for the first time in a while, Brian feels absolutely, unquestionably happy.

||

"What do you want for supper?" Gwil asks as they enter his trailer. "I haven't anymore scenes and can get out of costume. We can escape now."

Brian hesitates. "I'm not, uh, staying much longer."

Gwil's frown is instant. "Brian, we've not been able to spend much time at all together though."

"We had our moment, Gwil," Brian refers to their time together months ago, "and I've gotten to see your brilliant performance." He purses his lips, considering what to say next. "I've done all that I've meant to do in the future. I'm afraid of delaying my return for much longer."

"What? Is time going to explode or something?" Gwil says, not bothering to hide the bitterness he feels at the moment.

Brian smirks and leans into Gwil's personal space. "You're so lovely, Gwil. I could easily fall under your spell."

The half come on, half letdown is completely frustrating, but Gwil ultimately understands why Brian won't risk staying much longer. "You're not meant for me, I know that," he says. "But I quite like you, and if this is going to be our last moment together, I'm going to have to demand you snog the hell out of me before you go."

Brian wordlessly responds by wrapping his long arms around the other man and bringing their lips together without hesitation. Gwil whimpers into the kiss, recalls their previous kiss, and reels from the intensity of his emotions. He brings his hands up to bury in the curls and practically immerses himself in the kiss, etches everything about it in his memories. The gentle bite of his lower lip, the teasing brushes of their tongues, the scrape of mutual stubble, Brian's roaming hands along his backside.

They stutter to a stop when they need to catch their breaths, both finding it hard to fully stop. Gwil swallows, can't help but lick his tender lips. "Wow, uh, you really did snog the hell out of me."

Brian huffs a laugh, still breathing heavily.

"This must be kind of masturbatory for you since I still have the wig on."

Brian's jaw drops at the notion. He looks at the wig, entirely having forgotten Gwil was wearing it, then he looks back at the handsome face. "Gwil, you're very good at portraying me, but you're hardly an exact match. And if I were looking for that kind of experience, I'd have to be kissing my 70-year-old self."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"Gwil!"

"What?" Gwil giggles over his outrage. "Like you didn't consider it. Don't play innocent."

Brian rolls his eyes, "I admit nothing." He uses the light moment to pull away from Gwil, much to the actor's dismay. "It's time, Gwil," Brian says, apologetically.

Gwil sighs and turns to the small wardrobe in the corner to retrieve Brian's guitar. "Suppose you'll need this back," he reverently holds the Red Special out.

Brian stares at Gwil, still in costume, holding his guitar. "So, how does it feel to be Brian May?" he asks, meaning to be cheeky, but somehow truly wanting an honest answer.

Gwil must notice, his face solemn and affectionate. "An absolute honor."

Brian smiles without restraint and finally takes back his instrument. He steps away as much as he can and pulls out the time device. "Thank you for everything, Gwil."

Gwil blinks back tears.

"I can't wait to see the movie in 30 years."

"Oh, God," the actor laughs sharply in surprise. He lets himself take one last longing look. "Goodbye, Brian. Good luck."

"Take care, Gwil."

The wind kicks up, but Gwil's numb to it. Once Brian's gone, Gwil finds that the numbness stays.

||

The next morning, Gwil goes through the motions. He goes to the hair and makeup trailer first thing, shuttering when he sees himself in the curly wig again. The other fellas, except Rami, are in the trailer, tossing about their usual banter. If they notice his odd silence, they don't mention it, bless them. 

Gwil's not due to film right away, luckily, so he wanders to the crafty for a coffee he doesn't particularly feel like drinking just to have something to do.

"Gwil?" someone calls from behind.

He turns to see that Rami's the source of voice. The actor is in costume as well. He had to start filming earlier than the rest of them, which explains his absence from the hair and makeup trailer earlier.

"How are you doing?" Rami asks with his normal voice, which is surprising since he likes to stay in character.

Gwil's thrown by the break in protocol. "Umm, what do you mean? I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Rami takes a look around them and leads them to a quieter part of the area. "Because you look the same as I did the morning after Freddie left."

At first, Gwilym can't fathom what Rami is talking about. It's a slow revelation, but when it hits, it's breathtaking. "Freddie came to see you?!"

Rami looks around them again just to be sure no one is within earshot, then gives a conspiratorial smile. "Yeah, he stole a certain guitarist's time travel machine to go into the future to meet the person who was supposed to play him on film." He cutely points a thumb at himself as if the person was in question.

Gwil can't quite believe it (actually, yeah, he can) and tries to comprehend what it all means. "You knew!" he realizes. Gwil points an outraged finger at Rami. "You knew all along that was Brian yesterday."

Rami nods. "One look at the man, and I pieced it together."

"Wow, you met Freddie Mercury!"

"And you met young Brian May!"

They both give almost maniacal laughs over the situation.

"What was Freddie like?" Gwil can't help but wonder.

Rami gets a dreamy look on his face. "Larger than life — as you'd expect — utterly fearless, but so soft and gentle. He was a kind man and just wanted to help me."

"No wonder you're so good at the role," Gwil realizes the implications of meeting Freddie fucking Mercury. "I mean, no offense, you're a great actor, but you basically are Freddie on set."

Rami huffs, "Well, it's the same with you. You're Brian's clone, after all."

Gwil can't quite argue the point. "Do you think the rest of the band has made visits to the future and met their respective acting counterparts?"

Rami's wondered that too. "I don't think so. Joe would never be able to keep secret any kind of meeting with John Deacon. He'd never shut up about it."

"But can you imagine if younger Roger Taylor came to meet Ben?" Gwil muses. "I'm pretty sure the two Rogers would just bicker which of them Ben likes better."

"I'd pay money to see that," Rami chuckles.

"Me too!" They laugh over the notion, and Gwil finally starts to feel better. "I'm going to miss him. I mean, I know Brian's present-day self is still here, but it's different."

"I can imagine," Rami says. "I'm so grateful that Freddie visited me, even for that short time. Focusing on how wonderful the experience was and how much it changed my life with getting this role is what helped ease the ache."

Gwil pulls his lips in, considering Rami's words.

"Hey, I've got something to show you that'll cheer you up."

"What?"

Rami doesn't explain, just pulls Gwil outside to the actors' trailers. They approach Ben's, where Joe is stood on the steps, knocking on the door.

"Come on out, Ben!" Joe shouts.

"Fuck off!" is the muffled answer.

"Benny, baby, you can do this!"

"Not in a million years! It's not happening!"

"What's going on?" Gwil asks Joe.

Joe huffs and flops back onto the trailer door. "Ben's being a brat."

"I heard that!"

Joe rolls his eyes. "One of the ADs told him that Roger Taylor specifically requested that he play the drum solo in 'Keep Yourself Alive'."

"I'm not doing it!"

Gwil looks at Rami, who has a suspiciously serene smile on his face.

"Yes, you can!" Joe encourages. "I have faith in you. And Gwil has faith in you, don't you?"

"Uh, sure," Gwil poorly responds, then louder, "I believe in you, Ben!"

"See, Gwil believes in you!" Joe says. "And Rami too!"

"No, I don't!" Rami shouts.

Joe gives Rami a withering look. "Not. Helping," he mouths. "Honey, just do a little practicing. You'll do fine."

"Oh, God, I'll be sacked!" Ben moans.

"You did this?" Gwil accuses Rami.

Rami chuckles, "It's good, right?"

Gwil can't help but laugh too. "You're terrible, Rami."

"I know," Rami says, unrepentant. "Let's let him suffer a little longer. See where this goes."

Joe's banging on the door again, losing his patience. "Benjamin, I'm giving you till the count of ten to get out of this trailer."

"What?! You're not me Mum, A-hole!"

Rami and Gwil burst into laughter.

||

The next time older Brian visits the set, Gwil receives the longest, strongest hug yet.

||

When Brian returns to his home in 1987, the first thing he sees when the wind dies down is the astonished face of the lead singer of Queen.

"Freddie! What are you doing here?" 

Freddie blinks out of his shock. "We were meant to have breakfast this morning, but you didn't answer the door, so I let myself in."

_Oh, shit._ Brian had forgotten all about that.

"Brian, what just happened? You weren't here, then it got really windy, and then suddenly you appeared."

Brian tries to think of any excuse that could explain it all away, but coming up short, he settles on the truth. "I just traveled through time."

Freddie arches an eyebrow in question. "You're taking the piss."

"No, Freddie," Brian responds, expecting the skepticism. "All that was me returning from the future. Deacy and I built a time machine." Brian waves the device around in explanation.

"That's a handheld vacuum," Freddie notes.

"No, it's much more." Brian sets it aside on a table. "Look, Freddie, I know how bonkers it sounds, but you just saw me appear out of nothing right before your eyes. Do you think I could actually make up something like this?"

Freddie considers the question. "No, you're a terrible liar, and your acting ability is rubbish."

_If only you knew, Fred._ Brian doesn't vocalize the thought and simply nods in agreement. "So, long story short: popped into the future, popped straight back. Now, I desperately have to pee." He darts to the loo without looking back at Freddie.

"What?! That can't be all! Tell me everything!"

"Sorry, Fred! That's all you're getting," Brian says before shutting the door.

Freddie crosses his arms, indignant over Brian's secrecy. _Why in the world won't he tell me the entire experience?_

Freddie looks at the device, tentatively poking it with a finger to push it out of place slightly. He notices Brian's bag and snoops inside. There's a diary, which he doesn't hesitate to open.

His eyes skim over some techno-babble before they catch on something especially interesting. "A film about Queen?" he wonders aloud. He looks at the time machine again, a wicked smile on his lips.

Freddie pushes the button.

-end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read all about [Freddie's Excellent Adventure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158628/chapters/40345460) :)
> 
> Joe's little style rant was basically my way of explaining my writing style for Queen fics. Basically, an American doing their best. I draw the line at using British spelling conventions because I'd get too frustrated trying to catch them all. Writing's hard, y'all.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this bit of fantasy was a good diversion. Take care and thanks for reading, everyone!


End file.
